Bitter-Sweet Reminiscing
by HuntressofHope
Summary: Bilbo has kept his thoughts pent up inside him since the Battle of Five Armies, and now he lets it all out. NO SLASH!


**Yeah, not really sure where this came from. It was for a challenge, but I honestly couldn't think of anything to write. So I just started drabbling. I just typed a fraction. Sorry about that. I am so tired right now, that when I was reviewing for my geography final, I kept saying that the state of Illinois was Oklahoma. Yeah. Pretty tired. Don't forget to R&amp;R peeps. Maybe if you send me enough Diet Coke I can wake up enough to update my other stories. No coffee though, I hate that stuff. Which is a good thing, I guess, cuz if I had coffee, then my head would probably explode from caffeine over load. I don't mix well with caffeine. My friend have to make sure that there are no pointy objects withing a five foot radius of me...okay. I'm shutting up now. Enjoy!**

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I'm not really sure why I'm writing this; I believe that it has always been Ori's job to keep a journal. However, there are some thoughts that I believe I need to get out, and whenever I try, I can never find the words. So, I guess I'll write them. It can't be that hard, can it?

It has been thirteen years since the reclaiming of Erebor, and the death of the Line of Durin. Oh Fili and Kili, why did you have to leave us? You have no idea how broken the company was, and still is. Poor Balin looked like he was ready to give in to his age and join you in the Halls of Mandos, but of course Dwalin wouldn't let him. Young Ori wouldn't talk for months, and when he did, it was to snap at Dori to "Bugger off! My braids are fine!" Bofur was the worst. Before we found you, glassy eyes staring at each other on the battle field, he tried constantly to smile and keep our spirits up. It worked, for a while at least. Then Dwalin and Gloin carried you into the tent and laid you next to you uncle. He hasn't laughed since.

And Thorin, I don't even have words for how…frustrated with the world I was at your passing. You put your life on the line countless times for your mountain and you kin, only to gain it and then have it taken from you in the blink of an eye. It is simply not fair. As far as I am concerned, Dain is not half the King under the Mountain you would have been.

You always said you were taking your kingdom back for you people, but I eventually saw through that half-truth. You wanted your people back where they belonged, but in your heart, you were trekking half way across Middle Earth for you nephews. You wanted better for them. They were princes, and did not deserve the life they had living as vagabonds and wanderers, no matter how good of a life it was. They died defending you, you know. They were your most loyal of followers to the very last. At least they died with each other. We found them laying together, Kili resting his head on Fili's chest, and smile on his face. Fili had his hand as if he had been stroking Kili's hair. They never could stay apart from each other too long. Your love for Kili and Fili never ceased to astound me Thorin Oakenshield. Well, until I gained a nephew of my own. His name is Frodo, and I have been raising him for the past ten years. I love Frodo as my own son, as I believe you loved you sister-sons.

I never forgot your last words Thorin. But no matter how many times I play them over in my head, I still feel immensely guilty. I will admit, I was not the best of burglars.

I feel my age beginning to creep up on me, but I am not allowing it to hinder my Tookish side. I still occasionally travel with Gandalf, and he visits often. I haven't seen him in many months though. I wonder where that wandering old meddler got to?

Ah, well, I believe we all learned that what a wizard does is strictly his business, and it is fruitless for us to try to understand them. I still have dreams of our journey. There are a few nightmares, but mostly I dream of the peaceful times we had. Like the time the company decided it would be a good idea to start throwing my dishes everywhere and blunt my cutlery. That is a night I shall never forget. I dream of the jests we always played on each other when settling in for the night. Ori switching Nori's bag, Kili and Fili filling Thorin's bed roll with pinecones, Gloin trying to confuse poor Bifur by hiding his pipe. Those were some of the best days of my life. But now, my adventuring days are beginning to draw to an end, and I believe that I should but this book away before Frodo comes home. Nosey little bugger he is. Very well. Until next time, I suppose.


End file.
